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Prospero’s Isle James Francis BROWN
(b. 1969)
Piano Quartet (2004) [17:03] (a)
Violin Sonata (2001, rev. 2003) [20:13] (b)
Prospero’s Isle (2006, rev. 2007) [14:32] (c)
String Trio (1996) [22:40] (d)
Tamás András (violin) (a); Sarah-Jane Bradley (viola) (a, d); Gemma
Rosefield (cello) (a, c, d); Katya Apekisheva (piano) (a, b); Jack
Liebeck (violin) (b, d); Nicola Eimer (piano) (c)
rec. 27-28 July 2008, Concert Hall, Wyastone Leys, Gwent, UK (a,
b, c) and 17-18 November 2008, Henry Wood Hall, London (d). DDD
GUILD GMCD7354 [74:30]
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Alan Mills, writing in the booklet, suggests that James Francis
Brown’s work “will possibly remind some listeners of a certain
type of mainstream English music in the 20th century – and composers
such as Vaughan Williams, Ireland or even Finzi.” His essay
also makes much of the fact that today’s composers are no longer
afraid of writing tonal music. That said, and accepted, anyone
expecting this composer’s music to sound like one of those evoked
above is, I think, in for a surprise.
The earliest music on the disc is the String Trio from
1996. The composer evokes Beethoven in connection with this
work, which features a short Beethoven quotation. Beethoven
certainly comes to mind when one hears the strongly rhythmic
opening theme played over constant, rushing semiquavers. Much
of this first movement continues in this vigorous vein, though
the second theme is calm and returns at the close. The second
movement is a set of six variations, opening in sunny mood before
clouds gather. The final variation returns to the mood of the
opening. It is the shortest of the six, perhaps just too short
to be as adequate a summing up as the composer probably intended.
The work is nonetheless expertly written for the medium, with
no dryness of texture, and the listener is eager to return to
it.
The three-movement Violin Sonata begins with a dramatic
and highly chromatic opening gesture from both instruments,
leading to a series of contrasted episodes. The music, often
beguilingly melodious, sometimes comes to a halt which one could
take as the end of the movement, but then sets off again on
another tack. The Presto requires virtuoso playing from both
instrumentalists, and its central section, with repeated quavers
in the violin part is strikingly lovely. The finale is one long
song, restlessly moving towards what is, undoubtedly, a kind
of resolution, the very end of the work being undeniably effective.
The composer’s notes, however, tell us that the work was originally
three separate pieces that became “increasingly related to each
other” during composition. Striking, brilliantly written and
often very beautiful though the music is, I think it shows.
The Piano Quartet opens with huge energy amid much hammering
and sawing, expressions I use descriptively and with no pejorative
intent. The second subject is in total contrast, and made me
think of Tippett. Then there is a certain “busyness” to much
of the music that might put the listener in mind of Hindemith.
The musical language is skilfully employed throughout, often
highly chromatic, yet moments of repose – and, in this case,
the whole work – coming to rest on a simple major chord do not
seem incongruous. The composer analyses the work, which is in
a single movement, as a sonata form structure with an extended
coda. One can hear the two “subjects” plainly enough, but there
is much less sense of a development section, and very little
feeling of arrival for the recapitulation, which in any event
the composer says is “substantially reorganised and re-interpreted.”
The musical ideas are striking and often beautiful, but I don’t
always feel I know where I am in the piece, nor where the music
is taking me. Nor do I think the rather splashy coda quite comes
off, but all credit to Brown for not being afraid of writing
a decisive close.
Of Prospero’s Isle, for cello and piano, the composer
writes “…it was not exclusively the magical aspects of the play
that attracted me, for The Tempest is also a study of
power and mastery over people, events, even the very elements
of nature. It is tempting as a composer to see parallels with
the organisation and control over the elusive substance of music.”
I confess to being somewhat allergic to this kind of stuff,
as I also am to “Perhaps the characters of Prospero and Miranda
are alluded to…” Either they are or they aren’t, and he should
know. Having got that off my chest, let me turn to the music,
which is no less impressive than that of the other three pieces.
This work is the most tonal of the four, especially so at the
outset where the composer profits from the rich sound of parallel
sixths when played by a cello. The music is highly melodic,
even in the more dramatic passages, and in spite of what the
composer writes, is full of magical and beautiful sounds, mostly
guaranteed to “give delight and hurt not”. At around the eight
minute mark there is a forceful passage leading to an ardent
melody for the cello accompanied by downward spread arpeggio
chords on the piano; in such passages I tend to wish Brown would
put less in, especially in the piano part which threatens to
overwhelm the cello.
The booklet contains detailed information about each of the
young players, and rightly so, as the performances are of remarkable
virtuosity and conviction. They are clearly captivated by the
music. Listeners will be too, for is spite of any slight reservations
I might have, this collection of chamber pieces shows a composer
of the utmost integrity, totally in command of the medium, with
a voice of his own and an aural imagination to match. The disc
is beautifully recorded and I recommend it warmly to any collector
interested in the bewilderingly diverse world of contemporary
music.
William Hedley
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